


How do you touch a star?

by tillifer



Category: A Date With Markiplier - Fandom, A Heist With Markiplier, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillifer/pseuds/tillifer
Summary: In short; you don't.They burn too hot that even standing next to them would kill you.But death never stopped you, did it?
Relationships: Dark/reader, Darkiplier/Reader, dark/you, darkiplier/you
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	How do you touch a star?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy anniversary to A Date With Markiplier! I wanted to get this done for the anniversary, and I did! 
> 
> Shoutout to the treehouse for letting me break their hearts first.

Dark is back in the Manor again. Damien is angry, Celine is frustrated, and he, well, he isn't quite sure how he feels. Of course he's got to feel something being back here, it's the beginning of him. But all he feels is a sense of emptiness, and something akin to being shut out, like he doesn't belong here. 

But it might be the end of him as well. He feels like he's being ripped apart from the inside out. His head is pounding, and in a sick twist, there's this terrible ringing in his ears that won't go away. His eyesight is going too. Everything he sees has shadows and highlights that they shouldn't, and there are multiple of them. He brings his hands up to his ears, eyes screwed shut, hoping to block out that ringing, but it doesn't work, and when he pulls his hands back they're coated in blood. 

He's bleeding. 

He shouldn't be able to do that, but he is, and that just pushes him further into question of what was going on. He's so caught up, that he doesn't register that he's moving, stumbling, more like it, until he comes up to the mirror. 

That fucking mirror. 

He wants to smash it, to rip it off the wall and throw it. But he knows he'll never do that, he couldn't. You were in there. And he could never hurt you. But as he looked at the mirror closer he realized, you weren't there. You weren't anywhere. His breathing grows frantic, where were you? Did he get to you? 

He wants to yell, to scream, to curse out Mark's name, but his voice is gone. He tries to speak, but all he does is cough up blood. His frantic breathing ceases, as if his lungs were being gripped tight. He can't do anything, and it's infuriating. That rage that has always been a part of him, that fueled him, that kept others in check, it's all he has left, and yet he can feel that fading too. 

Everything is ending. He's losing his form, he's bleeding out, he's alone. 

And then he's awake, sitting up in bed, not bleeding whatsoever, and whole, yet feeling like something is missing. 

He shifts so he's sitting on the edge of the bed, and he's rubbing his face. The nightmares have been getting worse, and the feeling of emptiness is growing inside him. He doesn't feel like he belongs there, at the Manor, nor here with you. He glances behind him, looking for you only to find your spot empty and his worries double.

He's up immediately, looking for you desperately. He's running around, head pounding. What if he had actually gotten to you? What if these weren't nightmares, what if they were visions? What if, despite all his efforts, you had left? What if you were gone?

He's so caught up in his own head, thinking of every scenario that could explain why you weren't here, that he ran into you. The feeling of water against his shirt brings him back to reality, brings him out of his thoughts, and lets his eyes register you. 

"Well shit." You sigh, turning around to put your glass down. 

"I'll be right back." You say, going to leave the room. You're stopped though when Dark grabs your hand. 

"Don't go." His voice is hoarse, raspy, grip tight but not crushing.

"Ok, alright." You say, calmly. Something happened, you were sure of it, but you wouldn't pry. You trusted him to tell you on his own terms. 

You turn back to the glass, and refill it. With how hoarse his voice sounded, he definitely needed water. You hold out the glass to him, waiting for him to grab it, but he doesn't, so you have to press it to his lips. 

"Come on Mr. Edge. Drink up." You joke, trying to cheer him up. He smiles softly, opening his mouth so he can drink. Once he's done, you put the glass down again, bringing your hand to wipe his face. He leans against your hand, following it with his face when you pull it away. You can see the sadness in his eyes when he looks at you, and you smile, trying to ease his worries. 

He pulls you to his chest suddenly, wrapping his arms around you. It's jarring at first, but unsurprising considering the situation. You can feel the static radiating off of him, not unpleasant, but definitely worrying. 

Maybe you might need to pry. 

"Dark, is everything alright?" 

You don't get a coherent answer, just something mumbled into your hair as the static increases. It's prickly, like the feeling of pins and needles. It's growing uncomfortable, but you hold out. He needs to hold you for some reason, so you let him. 

But he doesn't let go, and now you're really starting to get worried because when you go to turn your head to look at him, he looks away and can't meet your eyes. So you try to pull back, get a better look at him, ask him what he said, but that just seems to make it worse. The static grows painful, there's a sharp ringing coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, and you can see Dark fracturing. 

"Dark, please, talk to me." You plead, eyes scanning all over his face for any sort of answer. 

He still doesn't answer, bringing his hands to his ears, doubling over. His form is deteriorating, and you can see the anger on his face. 

"I, i-it hurts." Is all he manages to get out. 

He screams, flinging his arms out, his auras lashing out.

"Dark, what's going on?" You ask, bringing your hands up to shield your face. 

"I don't belong here!" He yells, blue light flashing.

"What are you talking about?" You say, taking a step towards him, despite the white-hot pain you feel radiating off of him.

"I'm two dead souls in a stolen body, I don't know if I'm alive or if I'm dead. I can't bleed, I can't feel, I don't belong anywhere!" He yells again, voice breaking, red light flaring, before he crumbles to the floor. 

You there immediately, pulling him close. You don't say anything, just holding him, stroking his hair. He doesn't get up, you have to help him, and you bring him to the couch. You lay down, pulling him on top of you. You still don't say anything, just existing with him. 

Eventually though, you do speak up. You're playing with his fingers, cracking them, when you speak up. 

"You're like a glow-stick." You say. You hear him give a small chuckle, but that's it. 

The silence that follows is tense. He wants to say something, but after his outburst, he really doesn't know how to go about saying it. He starts multiple times, and you wait patiently for him to get there. 

"When I'm with you, I'm home." He says quietly, into your chest. You rub small circles in his back, smiling gently, kissing his cheek. 

"I'm glad to be your home."


End file.
